


Aisling

by Ashkenna



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), All Time Low
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Wish Fulfillment, Wish Granting stuff and things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:06:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashkenna/pseuds/Ashkenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael hates museums, he especially hates getting dragged along to 'wish granting' bullshit tourist attraction museums. So, of course he pokes fun at the wish granting factor of it. Except, his wish actually comes true, and suddenly he doesn't hate museums all that much anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aisling

Michael doesn't understand how or why he ended up on a cot, but he's pretty sure he doesn't really want to know. He does, however, remember what happened prior to it.  
Michael was being forced into a museum, and at the second to last room, Calum took out a sharpie. This was the all powerful, wish granting room he kept ranting on about. He wrote something on the wall and handed it over to Michael. And Michael, being the idiot he was wrote something dumb. He couldn't remember what exactly it was, but it was dumb.

Next thing he knows is he's going back to get his jacket and he hears music. It's old, classical music and he feels himself being lifted up. Not in a flying kind of way, either, the kind of way where you're no longer slouching. He felt like someone was there with him, like someone was straightening him out. Like someone was wrapping their arms around him, in a waltz type manner.

He started to spin, going slowly, up and down with each step. The trance he was being set in, he saw a very glance at a person. A man, with brown hair and the lightest of brown eyes, he had stubble that covered his chin. He gave a smirk and then Michael was broken out of the trance. Calum snapped his fingers in front of Michael's face. "Dude?" He said. 

"What the hell? You were just sitting here staring into space?"

"Oh, I guess- I guess I just blanked out for a moment." Michael threw his jacket over himself and walked out with the face, still imprinted on his mind. The smirk still singed on to his eyelids.

He doesn't understand what any of that had to do with why he was here. he was, though, and there was a blond boy nursing wounds that he doesn't know how he got. The boy smiled at the awaken of Michael and set down the rag he was using. "You've never been much good at riding horses, have you, sir?" The boy had a strong scottish accent.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Michael was almost in awestruck about his new accent. It was an English one, but hey, at least it wasn't Scottish accent.

"You must have hit the ground hard." The boy laughed. "I'm Lucas, remember? You're squire?"

Lucas. Lucas, okay. He was trying his hardest to not freak out because- did he just say squire? Like, a squire squire? Michael wanted to move around, see where he actually was, but he all at the same time didn't want to. "Well then." Lucas got up. "You'll have to be bed ridden for a few days. You'll be back and up for the horse training in no time."

"Lucas." Michael reached out to grab his hand. "Where am I?"

Lucas smiled. "Why, sir, you're in Ravens Keep sanctuary."

"Yes." Michael leaned back. "Okay."

\---

Over the next two days of being bed ridden, he realized a few things. Lucas, the blond boy, was indeed Michael's squire, Michael was apparently in some sort of school for knights, a training place, he supposes. Halfway through the second day, Michael realized that his blue hair had went back to blonde and stubble lined his face.

The same stubble was being shaved off today by Lucas, who was less of a squire, more of a butler. Michael had gotten used to his lack of shirt, but Lucas put him into a rough fabric shirt with a vest that was made tightly around his torso. It almost took an hour to get dressed. Lucas insisted that he carried his daggers, and made up his hair. Michael nearly rolled his eyes, but let Lucas do as he did.

"The stables, that's where you need to go. Do you know where it's at?" Lucas asked.

"I'll find it." Michael said, and before he could go outside, Lucas dragged him back. He put a satchel around the boy and opened the door for him. Michael nodded and came out into the cold, which was a nice change from the heat of the wool blankets he'd been sleeping under. It took him a couple minutes, but he found the stables. Jogging in, he stopped to see a familiar face. The familiar face. Brown, messy hair, tannish skin and eyes that looked up to him.

"Sir Clifford." He looked Michael straight in the eyes. "I caught word of your misfortune. I am terribly sorry about Lilac."

"Remind me, what is your name?" Michael stopped him at a pause, and the boy looked confused.

"You never- you never asked me of my name." He stuttered. "But it's Alexander." He gave that smirk and Michael was absolutely sure, this was the man he saw. "Are you here to complete your riding lesson?"

"Yes, I suppose." Michael remembers having horseback riding lessons as a kid, not that he really wanted to, perse, but his father said it was 'better than keeping his lazy ass inside'. Alexander lead him to the other end of the stable, where two horses waited for them. Alexander helped Michael up on to one, and put himself on the other.

"So, hows that head of yours?" Alexander asked.

"It's fine, I suppose, aside from the whole memory thing." They started on a path going down a forest.

"I am still sorry about that, by the way."

"It's fine. I'm fine." Michael shrugged it off. "It's not your fault anyway."

Alexander smiled. "A man like you should not show such pity towards a stable boy like me. Your squire didn't." Alexander curled himself a bit around the horse and Michael bit his lip before asking.

"What did Lucas do to you?" Michael asked.

"Your squire did nothing to me, but he had the horse slaughtered." Alexander turned to Michael, whose eyes shone with pity.

"You will have to believe; I would not have ordered any such punishment." Michael was catching on to the way they spoke around here. He also caught on to the way Alexander chewed on his lip when he looked him in the eyes. As if he was scared something would happen to him.

Was Michael supposed to be some sort of smartass snob who rained down terror at anyone who looked at him? If he was, he's not going to live up to that.

\---

Michael stopped doing riding lessons, finished them, actually, and started to do sword training. Which, surprisingly, he wasn't half bad at. The teacher, Ashton, was pretty nice, though. Compared to some of the other knights teachers. Michael hadn't seen Alexander since he stopped riding lessons, so when he popped in to see him, he was quite happy that the boy was there. He came in, and Alexander turned, smiling. "Hello Michael. What are you here for? Isn't it time for your afternoon meal?"

"Yes... It is, but I wanted to come see you."

"Oh." Alexander put the brush up and looked at him. "What did you wish to see me about? Would you like to take another riding lesson?"

Michael shook his head, laughing. "No, I just wanted to talk to you." He was about to lean against one of the doors, but before Alexander could save him, he landed in the hay. Alexander looked down at him from one of the posts. He looked scared. Michael started to laugh at himself, making Alexander smile. "Help me up." He said through laughs. Alexander reached out his hand and pulled Michael up.

"I'll get you a new shirt. Wait here for a moment." Alexander walked off into another room and returned with a white shirt. Michael began to take off his own and Alexander hesitated a moment before handing it over to him. "You know, Michael, I am surprised your heart is not taken." Michael raised an eyebrow after pulling on the loose shirt.

"Are you now?" He asked. "And why is that?"

"Well, a swordsman like you deserves a lucky maiden to go to the knighting ball with."

"And who said I wanted a maiden to go to the ball with?" Michael asked, tucking in the ends of his shirt into his pants. "Perhaps I wanted a man?"

"D-don't jest Mic-Michael, finding two of the same- it's forbidden, it's- it's queer!" Alexanders face grew red and Michael smiled at himself.

"Yes? And what does that mean for whom I feel for?" Michael asked. "Or for who you feel for? What do you prefer, Alexander?"

"Wha- I- uh..." Michael felt almost accomplished for gobsmacking the stable boy. "Of course I-I like women!"Alexander exclaimed. "Su-such an odd qu-question for such a smart swordman don-don't you think?"

"Sir Clifford!" Lucas's voice yelled. "The Royal Guard is looking for you!" He jogged over and hugged Michael. "There was a killing. I wanted to make sure that you were alright."  
"A- a killing?" Alexander asked. "What happened?"

"The Royal Guard says it's a werewolf." Lucas said. "Seems that they're going to be patrolling at night now. First they've got to do the silver tests after lunch ends. Hurry, we don't want them to suspect anything from you."

"But, I'm just in here with Alexander. They won't suspect anything of me, besides some riding lessons." Michael laughed. "I wished to get some more time in."  
Lucas looked tense. "As long as it's an alibi, I suppose it's okay. But if you are going to go, go already."

Michael nodded and Lucas walked away. Alexander looked at Michael, raising an eyebrow in silent question, but Michael just patted his back. "Get the horses out, stable boy." Alexander did, and they went down the path again, and Michael leaned back as they did. "Alexander." He said, not as if he was talking to the startled boy, but as if he was trying it out on his tongue. "Mind if I call you Alex?" Michael turned, and Alexander bit his lip.

"It is a bit nontraditional, is it not?" Alexander turned to Michael, who was listening intently. "I-I mean, Alex Gaskarth sounds- it sounds... odd."

"Gaskarth, is it?" Michael smiled. "Alexander Gaskarth, it sounds a bit too traditional, if you ask me."  
Alex smiled and the blush rose on his face again. "You truly are a interesting man, Michael Clifford."

\---

A few weeks later, Alex was guiding Michael down a forest path, not the one that they had taken on lessons, but a walking trail. It was silence from the two boys, but the atmosphere said everything. Alex with his goddamn smile and eyes that trailed down from Michael to the ground, then back to Michael. As if he kept remembering that Michael was a blue blood in this world, but didn't have enough will to look away for long. Michael started to whistle an unfamiliar song, which the song birds copied. "What song is that?" Alex asked.

"If you tell me where you're taking me, I'll tell you what the song is." Michael smiled and Alex laughed.

"We are almost there, Michael. Stop being so impatient. Tell me what the song is." Alex said, helping him down a slope.

"It's... a song." Michael said, he didn't want to really say what song it was, since he is at least 80% sure that Alex doesn't know who Pierce The Veil is. "An old song, that my brother composed."

Alex smirked, nodding. "And the whistle, is that how it goes?"

"Yes." Or, it was at least how the guitar chords went.

"And you have a brother?" Alex asked, making Michael bite his lip.

"I did, he is- he is deceased." It was a lie, but also a half-truth. His mother did have a brother, he just never came around to being born. Alex nodded, he seemed to understand everything. As Michael was about to continue walking, he noticed the other stop. In front of them was a pond, and Michael looked to Alex who gave a waiting look back. "What is this place, Alex?"

"See that little island in the middle?" Alex pointed it out. "That is where I live. I pass by this place everyday on the way there. I thought I'd show you, maybe you'd like it."

"Well, I like it." Michael sat on to the pebble beach, and Alex sat beside him. "It is beautiful." Alex sat down beside him and smiled. "And it's where you live?"

"Yes. Quite a quaint home I have."

"I'll just have to see it someday, yeah?"

Alex paused, almost froze, and looked to Michael. He looked confused, Michael turned to him after a moment of silence. His head was tilted adorably, he looked so confused.   
"Yeah?" He asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Michael chuckled at Alex. "It is like yes, it actually means the exact same thing as yes."

"Oh, so it is a slang word? Like, from peasants?"

"Yes, I-I suppose. I used to play with them all the time. I guess I caught up on the slang."

"Michael, may I share something with you?" Alex said, his brown eyes looking up and his lip being sucked into his mouth and chewed on, waiting for a response. Michael finally nodded, making his anxiety lower just a bit. "Before you fell off that horse and lost your memory, and all of that, you- you were, and please do not take offense to this, horrid. You pushed everyone around. Be-before you passed out, you ordered to have me whipped until I had a back full of blood." Michael froze, he didn't want to hear anymore. He didn't want Alex to continue, but all at the same time, he wanted to see what he was getting at.

"And now, you seem- you seem different. I was not sure about it at first; not sure if I could trust such a facade. The day, though, that you asked the question of which I prefer, I knew. You are not the Michael I knew."

"Alex, which do you prefer?" Michael asked. Alex looked over to Michael and leaned in, making Michael jump at the sudden kiss, but rest into it after a few seconds.

"I prefer you, Michael."

\---

It was the night of the Knights Ball, which, Michael never had any interest in going to anyway, he only went for the ceremony, but when the actual dancing part started, Michael went out to the stables to go look for Alex. The rain was pouring down, but the light was glowing from the stable, so Michael made a run for it. He closed the door behind himself and Alex didn't even have to look over to realize it was him. "You are supposed to be at the ball, are you not?"

"I know..." Michael was undoing the vest he was put in. "But do I have to dance there?"

"Yes, yes you do, Michael." Michael walked over to see what was going on with Alex, who was leaning into a stable. Inside, was a horse, laying down with a smaller one. It was Michael's turn to be confused. Alex looked up to Michael, smirking. "What is it, Michael?"

"What is going on here?"

"Well, Nollaig, just gave birth to her foul."

"So, you just experienced horse birth?" Michael smiled.

"It's not my first time, Michael. I've been helping horses give birth since I was a child."

"Well, do you wanna go get washed up, then go around to showing me that quaint home you have?" Michael raised his eyebrows. Alex rolled his eyes, then grabbed at Michael's shirt. He gave him a kiss.

"I will only get washed up if you get washed up with me." Michael gave a daft chuckle, with red rising on his cheeks.

"That sounds alright to me." Alex took the lantern off the shelf of the barn and started leading Michael to the pond again. He set the lantern down and began to undress with Michael, who didn't take as long as Alex did to jump into the cold water. Michael dunked under it, popping back up behind Alex and grabbing him. Michael almost wanted to let go at the feeling of long, horrid, scar tissue. He didn't, though, he kissed Alex's neck, loving the way the boy chuckled at the feeling. He turned around in Michael's arms, kissing him back.

"We better hurry before they start looking for us." Alex dunked down out of Michael's arms, but Michael quickly became wrapped up in Alex's. "And before we start something we can't finish." Michael grinned widely at Alex's new thoughts.

Michael, of course, got out of the pond first, not that it was any different outside of it. His clothes were soaked, but they were better than paddling across the pond necked. He watched and waited as Alex swam around. When he got out and dressed he pulled Michael up to his feet. "You are impatient, Sir Clifford." They went along the pond on a hidden old, paddle boat.

In the cabin Michael smiled, leaning back as Alex got out spare clothes. "Quite a quaint abode you have here, Alexander." Alex laughed, throwing dry clothes at Michael.

"It is back to Alexander now, is it?" He asked, laughing.

"No, I just felt it was appropriate for the moment." Alex lit the fireplace with peat, and looked up at Michael, and in the silence, they could hear the sound of music being played in the mess hall, and, honestly, Michael wasn't expecting Alex to bow down.

"May we dance, Sir Clifford?" Michael chuckled and took Alex's hand.

"We may, Sir Gaskarth." Alex straightened Michael's back and wrapped his arms around him, and they started to move. Michael smiled widely as Alex looked up from his feet and gave a smirk. That smirk, the smirk that Michael had seen all those months ago. the smirk that was forever burnt into the insides of his eyelids. After a moment or two of dancing, Michael kissed Alex, and they moved to the bed as it got deeper.

\---

They were tangled up with each other in the bed, the fire not on anymore, but a lantern dimly lighting the room. Alex smiled at Michael, curling his arms around the younger boy. His lips tracing Michael's neck and leaving warm breath on his skin. Michael looked to him in the dimness of the lantern giving a smirk to Alex, his heart thumping faster than he ever thought it could. Alex pushed forward and kissed him, pulling away and smiling. "I love you, Michael."

Michael nodded. "I love you too, Alexander."

The last thing he thought before he went to sleep in Alex's arms was 'don't ever let this end'. Which made his awakening bitter with irony. He woke up alone, in his old bed, his soft clothes and his computer at the bedside table, and the only thing he could think to do was get up and search. He checked his apartment up and down, and when he got back to his bedroom, he broke down in a fit of tears.

\---

Michael was devastated, but also determined. What happened couldn't have been a dream. He knew it, it felt too real, Alex felt too real. The way his heart thumped, the lips against his, it all felt too real. 'It was just a dream, Michael,' Calum had told him, 'it means nothing, man. Alex isn't real.' Michael was sure that Calum had considered sending Michael to an asylum at least thirteen times in the last month of hurt Michael had wallowed in.

One day, he decided to go back to the stupid museum Calum took him to. He needed to know what he wrote down in the room. He looked as the lady was speaking about the room. He almost chuckled at himself as he read the word 'adventure' in his hand writing. As they walked into the last room, Michael took the privilege to write something else down. 'Alexander Gaskarth'. It was a dumb luck chance that it would actually work, but he tried it anyways.

\---

Michael waited for months, but fate has an odd way of working. Michael, on the way home from his job, stumbled into a man carrying books, books that spilled all over the ground. They were college textbooks. Michael chuckled at himself, going down to pick them up. "God, I am so sorry." Michael bit his lip, picking up some of the books and handing them over, looking up and freezing.

"Hey, it's alright man. Happens all the time." The boy chuckled. Michael didn't know whether to cry, be excited or kiss him. (he scrawled out the last one because clearly the man didn't know who Michael was.) He handed Michael one of the books that Michael had dropped. "I think you dropped this." With that, he walked away and Michael wanted to run, ask him for his name, his number. The man that looked remarkably like Alex, he wanted to know everything about him.

His feet refused though, his whole body refused to follow the man as he walked off. Michael just continued walking home with the book in his hands. It was at the end of the day, when he actually opened the book, that he saw a phone number with the words you're pretty cute under it, signed with the name Alex Gaskarth. Michael's grin grew wide at the note.

He thanked Calum later, for dragging him to the dumb museum, though it left him confused, it was genuine.

**Author's Note:**

> Aisling is an Irish word pronounced Ash-ling meaning vision or dream


End file.
